A Day in the Life Of
by SilverCyanide
Summary: Set twoish years after canon, this follows important life events of our favorite tennis characters. He's transferring schools? Rikkai burned down did WHAT? He's going PRO? /Chapter 11: His options were music, tennis, and Shishido-san. He had to choose./
1. I Open at the Close

First and foremost:

**Disclaimer: **I do _not_ own Prince of Tennis. Any recognizable names, trademarks, etc. belong to Konomi-sensei. The Rikkai naming system (i.e., Niou as 'Haru', Yukimura as 'Mura', Marui as 'Maru' and so on) belongs to the wonderful Sandileina.

I do, however, own any Original Characters that appear in this fic. If you happen to want to use any of them (in particular a sibling? –shot-) feel free to do so but with proper credit.

**Now:**

--This fic is essentially a sequel _OR _companion to last year's year-long fic _Every Day is a Holiday_. I'm not saying you can't enjoy it without having read that massive thing, but a lot of the situations occurring here will play off of something that happened in EDAH. I would post most of this as Livejournal only, but I know most of you (read: those who were interested in EDAH) are too lazy to get an LJ or check your (or my) LJ frequently.** Also note:** if it goes off of a particular occurrence in EDAH (e.g., a certain chapter, the Niou arc, etc.) I'll say so. So if you don't want to bother reading the whole long!fic but for some reason want to follow this, you _should_ - in theory at least - be okay.

--Time for things (e.g., year, season, etc.) will be posted. They may or may not correspond with the year time, though they probably will.

--No real update schedule. Just whenever something pops into my brain that doesn't belong as a separate fic. (See the first real chapter of this fic.)

--Ratings are **K through T. Any M+ (at least, as far as sexual content goes) will be LJ friend locked only. **If you truly want to know why, PM or review.

--If going off of EDAH, we're two and a half years after canon. It's January first, if you didn't know that by looking at the post time on this A/N. Two and a half years equates to initial third years being in the now-January of their second year of high school. If I happen to go back a year/to another time (some things may have fit a particular drablet in EDAH that I did not have a chance to write or post in that fic) I will state this at the beginning. A/Ns will be important. Kthx. 

--**_Other Warnings: _**_shounen-ai is happening, het is happening, OCs are happening, family problems are happening, drug and alcohol references and appearances are happening, mental disorders are happening. Real life is happening. (Yaoi is often implied, shojo-ai and yuri may or may not be happening.)_

--That's it. Let's get started? (And Happy 2010 to you all!)


	2. The Great Tezuka Debate: Sort Of

**Date: **January first, 2010.

**Characters:** Tezuka K., Fuji S.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: Last chapter of EDAH, last holiday, second entry. Or, if you're too lazy: Tezuka's going to Germany to train pro.

**A/N: **Correct my math if I'm wrong: if his plane left at 7 PM, the flight is approximately twelve and a half hours, and Japan is eight hours ahead of Germany, that would give us his arrival time of 11:30ish PM, no? Ah, well. Here's a chapter, enjoy?

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"Your plane landed all right?" was the first question out of Fuij's mouth as the other line was _finally_ picked up.

"Yeah." The word came out with all the exhaustion Fuji knew Tezuka was feeling, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to wrap his arms around the other teen at the moment. Seeing as he was nearly 6,000 miles (over 9,000 kilometers) away, that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

"It's right around eleven-thirty-ish, right?" Fuji asked. From the other line Tezuka nodded, before remembering he was on the phone and responding.

"Hn." Where he was, Tezuka blinked a few times to keep himself awake (he hadn't spent most of the flight sleeping because he knew he needed his body to adjust quickly). He maneuvered around a woman who was yelling at her son in screeching English, checking his watch and realizing the car he'd been told was going to pick him up wouldn't be here for another twenty minutes. "How's the future?"

From the other line, Fuji chuckled, but there was a sad, sweet resonance to it. "More enjoyable when I'm talking to you. Is it weird thinking that we're in different, well… _years_?"

"A little," Tezuka admitted, sitting down on a bench outside the terminal. "Give me a few hours, the difference will be less odd." The larger teen gave a yawn, half-covering his mouth as he held his phone between shoulder and his ear. "You bother telling them yet?"

"Not yet," the tensai admitted a bit feebly. "They were too immersed in partying last night, and I didn't want to ruin the mood." The tensai paused for a moment as he listened to his mother making breakfast downstairs; the couple sat in amiable silence. "Did you ever tell Oishi?"

Tezuka sighed on the other end.

"It never came up," he eventually muttered, though both teens knew there were other reasons behind it.

"Be the bearer of bad news, then?" Fuji gave a frustrated sigh, but it wasn't entirely directed at Tezuka and the other boy knew this. "I don't need him having a panic attack then and there, and we both know he's at least observant enough to know something's up."

"I'll text him later."

"Do it now," Fuji said. "You'll fall asleep later, and then you'll forget and then I'll be stuck on damage control." Tezuka gave a barely discernable sigh, but Fuji heard beeping noises which meant Tezuka was pressing buttons on his phone. They stopped a moment later.

"Send. Happy?"

"Very." There was another silence, but Tezuka had never quite been a talker and so they were comfortable just knowing they could connect despite being so far away. Eventually Tezuka spoke.

"I have to go," he said, standing as a balding man whom he recognized stepped out of a car. "but I'll talk to you later. Eig-"

"Eight hour time difference." The tensai gave a genuine smile from where he was in Japan. "I won't forget. Go get some sleep."

"Hn," Tezuka replied. He looked at his phone once, noticing it had switched timezones with the flight and now displayed 12:01. "Happy New Year, by the way," he added, before shutting the phone closed and off. Fuji knew enough not to call, and seeing as he was the only one Tezuka had any business dealing with at the moment there was no use in leaving it on and decreasing its battery life.

Back in Japan, Fuji Syusuke's phone began ringing. With a quick glance at the Caller ID he gave a sigh, put on his best "I Am Deathly Cheerful" act, and answered.

"Yes Eiji…?" he questioned, though he knew exactly why his friend was calling. He was met with a vocal train wreck in which the acrobat shouted off a dozen different questions in what sounded like two dozen different languages. The meaning got through though, loud and clear.

"WHEN DID TEZUKA LEAVE?"

"Eiji, calm dow-"

"No, I will _not_ calm down! Oiishi gets one little text message and he looks like he's about to pass out before he starts babbling incoherently! What - is - going - ON?!" Eiji screeched. Fuji had to pull the phone away from his ear, afraid the noise would make his ears start bleeding.

The tensai sighed. It was going to be a _long_ day.

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**Ending A/N: **Reviews encouraged. Thanks.


	3. Inui's Dilemmas

**Date: **January fifth, 2010.

**Characters:** Yanagi R., Marui B. (somewhat), Inui S., mentions of Kaidoh K.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: Yanagi and Marui are dating, but that's not a major factor in anything here; Inui and Yanagi became Totally Awesome Friends Again after meeting-up in junior high.

**A/N:** Short chapter, because this idea has been plaguing my brain. (On another topic: _macbethandwitches - _one of my few IRL fanfic friends - has posted her first PoT fic,_ Rollercoaster Troubles_. She'd appreciate feedback since she's mega new to this fandom! :3)

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Yanagi's phone buzzed playfully, bright burst of light running across the screen in a joyful precursor to the news it was about to deliver. The teen flipped it open to view the new message, face falling once he process the news. Marui looked up, curiosity-piqued eyes tinged with worry.

"Do you have any of those cucumber muffins left?" the larger teen asked. Marui nodded, the odd questing throwing him off.

"Yeah, sure." The boy got up, rummaging through the bread box until he found the plastic container holding them. "Did you want one?" Yanagi shook his head, only adding to Marui's bewilderment.

"You don't' need them do you?" the data man asked. He stood and headed for the front door, Marui following with muffins in hand.

No, bu-"ui was cut off as Yanagi kissed him, a sweet caress of lips, before breaking off.

"Sadaharu just text me; Kaidoh-kun got a girlfriend and he's having trouble coping," Yanagi murmured softly and Marui nodded in sudden understanding.

"Go." The tensai gave him a light push. "I'll talk to you later."

Yanagi bent down for one last, sugar-dusted kiss before sweeping out the door.

The bus ride was long made longer by the lack of real response from his friend. He must have sent twenty texts, but the reply, if he received one at all, was always the same: _When you get here_.

Forty minutes later, Yanagi was standing on the doorstep of the Inui residence. He rang, then knocked, then let himself in with a hurried squeak of hinges and a shuffle of removed shoes.

He found Inui in his room, sitting at his computer. There was no click of keys as there would normally be. Instead, the other teen sat, posture ridged and unseen eyes staring at the single open document that lit up the screen. (Yanagi could see even from his place at the door that there were no other documents open along the toolbar, let alone the twenty that he usually associated with both his and Sadaharu's computer.)

"Hey." It was soft, the word coming from Yanagi as the other teen put a hand on Inui's shoulder. The sitting boy did not move, simply gave a half-shrug, and Yanagi's hand fell. The Rikkai student pulled a nearby chair over, sitting down, He placed the container of muffins over of the myriad of papers scattered across the top of the desk.

"I brought muffins," he said lamely, opening the container and offering one. Inui did not accept, and Yanagi's brow furrowed in worry that lidded eyes could not fully express. "You've got to eat something." Before Inui could protest, Yanagi added, "I know you – you haven't."

Inui gave a wry smile at the knowing comment, but did not make to take a muffin.

"Nothing will stay down," Inui said, voice shaking like the hands he held tightly in his lap. "I just… I can't…" His voice cracked sharply, looking down at his lap. Renji placed a hand over Inui's, clasping tightly to reassure him.

"Tell me about her." Renji knew that asking a normal person to tell you about their crushes' love interest would generally be a bad idea, but Renji lived in another world that wasn't entirely normal – the same one Inui resided in – and it was a world where getting all the ridiculous words clouding your mind out would clear everything up.

"Watanabe Haruko. Year: First year in high school. Age: sixteen. Birthday: June twenty-sixth. Height: 161.9 centimeters. Weight: 54.9 kilograms. Hair color: black; eye color: honey brown. Best subject: Japanese. Worst subject: Science. Family: father – 47 – Ryou; mother – 45 – Saiko; sister – 22 – Aika. Extra curricular: track, cross country," Inui listed. He took a deep breath as he finished, head dropping down to rest on his desk; Yanagi rubbed soothing circles across his friend's back like he'd seen Marui do with his younger brothers. The larger boy's shoulders shook, a choked sob escaping his lips as the emotions he'd been holding back in an attempt to process swept over him like a tsunami.

"I've got new data on the species of bug they've just discovered," Yanagi said softly after a long while of silence. Inui looked up, small smile playing across his lips as his friend procured a flash drive from his pocket and plugged it in. Immediately the drive began to load and the two settled down for a long afternoon of pointless discussion and friendly chatter about a shared passion.

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**Ending A/N:** Reviews and thoughts appreciated!


	4. Procrastination

**Date: **January _eleventh_ (early morning), 2010

**Characters:** Yukimura S., Kirihara A.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: These two are dating and have been for ages. Due to family situations, Akaya pretty much lives with the Yukimura family. Also, tomorrow/today/the eleventh is when Japanese school year comes back from their winter break, if I'm not mistaken.

**A/N: **Small tidbit as a shout out to those of you who have exams this week like moi, and those of you who procrastinate - also like moi.  
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Yukimura Seiichi sat up. He rubbed at his eyes groggily, glancing at the bright red numbers on the clock. They read 2:13.

Yet, upon further inspection, the spot next to him on the bed was empty, its place cool: the normal occupant obviously hadn't just gotten up for a glass of water.

Sighing, Yukimura sat up and ran a hand through his hair before slipping out of the warmth of his bed. If Akaya wasn't sleeping it was no use of his going back to bed either.

He found the boy where he expected him to be: in the kitchen at the table, typing away on the small yet sleek laptop he'd gotten as a joint Christmas gift from a few of his senpai-taichi. There were papers spread out all over and a few books open as well, a mug of what Yukimura knew was now-cold coffee sitting off to the side and making an abominable ring on the granite.

He was working so hard he didn't hear Yukimura enter.

"I thought you said you'd finished everything?" Strong arms slipped around Akaya's waist as he murmured in the freshman's ear. Akaya stiffened, fingers freezing in their position along the keyboard before his entire body slumped backwards in the chair, neck lolling as his eyes slipped shut.

"That was until Miroku-chan sent out a class text reminding us about this stupid essay." Akaya groaned. "'S killin' me."

With reluctant understanding Yukimura removed his arms, pulling up a chair and sitting down. The younger boy's body position changed, leaning against his boyfriend this time, and Yukimura automatically wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder; Akaya leaned in, grateful for the warm touch.

"How much do you have left?" the captain asked. Akaya groaned again.

"Page 'n a half," he murmured. "'S over every freakin' thing we've done this semester!"

Reaching over the boy, Yukimura scrolled up the page to examine Akaya's thesis about the effects of Japanese imperialism. He gave a small smile, memories of studying the topic the previous year flooding back to him, and he clicked a few times before coming to the folder labeled "Freshman 08-09: Yukimura Seiichi". He double clicked two more times before his own essay on the same topic came up.

Twenty minutes later and with more re-wording than should have been possible, the pair was lying in bed.

"Thanks," Akaya murmured, burying himself against the warmth of Yukimura's body. The junior pulled him in closer, an arm around his waist, and pecked him lightly on the forehead.

"I'm pretty sure you've had this paper marked in your planner for a month now, Akaya," Yukimura reminded, though his tone was light and caring instead of the harsh annoyance it should have been. Akaya shrugged.

"You 're more 'portant," the younger boy managed around a yawn. "You 'n… 'n t'ns… 'n…"

As Akaya dozed off, Yukimura couldn't help but agree.

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**A/N:** Reviews loved. :3


	5. Muromachi's Breakdown

**Date: **January sixteenth, 2010

**Characters:** Muromachi T., Sengoku K.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: The Muromachi brother's section in the last chapter of EDAH. Or: the fact that their parents are divorced and Taichi (not as in Dan, as in Muromachi's younger brother) decided for some reasons unknown to his brother that he would prefer to live with his father.

**A/N:** Piece is short, but I've missed these two and this needed to be started. You'll get more continuation, promise~

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"Oi." Muromachi Touji's head snapped up, looking around beneath ever-present sunglasses. Sengoku's face appeared right next to his, eyes wide and curious as they usually were.

"Hm?" the freshman asked, blinking in hopes that it would somehow help focus him. Sengoku sighed.

"What's up with you recently?" the older teen asked, peering at him as they continued walking back from practice. Muromachi shook his head, not wanting to continue, but before he could voice this comment, Sengoku had continued. "Did something happen?"

"Everything's fine." It was a lie through gritted teeth, and Sengoku knew it. This time the vice captain missed a full beat as he was walking, steps no longer synching up, and it took the other teen a moment of flustered stumbling before he was back to his usual rhythm.

"Obviously it's not." The comment was soft, in a gentler tone than Muromachi was used to; yet, at the same time, it held a firm weight underneath that prodded at him, trying to get Muromachi to spill if only for his own good. The freshman adamantly ignored his senpai, but Sengoku was a determined soul: he wasn't going to be brushed off that easily. Before Muromachi had a chance to react the lucky teen's hands were at his biceps, pinning him quite forcefully in place.

"What _happened_?" he asked once the shock clouding the younger boy's eyes had cleared. He searched those same eyes for a hint of anything, even a small message, but Muromachi purposefully averted his gaze.

"Nothing. Just… just…"

And then Muromachi was crying, glasses that had been knocked askew as Sengoku grabbed him doing nothing to hide the tears or the pain he was feeling. He broke down, hands clinging to the fabric of Sengoku's sleeves despite the fact that the junior had released his grip on Muromachi's arms.

"Taichi and I fought and shit and he just… he fucking _left_!" the younger teen spat violently, small flecks of blood from where he'd bitten down on his lip flying off. Then he dropped his head, making no eye contact with Sengoku, though he continued to cry. His shoulders shook and he slumped, Sengoku stepping forward just in time to catch him and pull him into a tight embrace.

"He just… he left and went to stay with 'Tou-san," Muromachi sobbed, the words broken and in pieces around all of the emotion. Sengoku shushed him like a mother a child, running fingers through dark hair in an attempt to sooth the tortured soul. Then, with a cracked, shuddering breath Muromachi added, "I miss him."

"He'll come back." It is a low whisper of a less-than-true statement, but the reassurance from Sengoku seems to be what Muromachi needed. "He always comes back."

Carefully, as minutes ticked by, Muromachi picked the pieces of emotion up and placed them back together, a painting held together by tape. But it was enough to get him home composed and though the floodgates opened again once he was safely lying in his bed, Sengoku stayed – no request needed – and when the pale light of dawn cracked after a sleepless night Muromachi Touji knew everything would be all right.

Eventually.

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**A/N: **Feedback and reviews loved. Corrections and criticism appreciated!


	6. Sleep: It's Necessary

**Date: **January eighteenth, 2010.

**Characters:** Kirihara A., Yukimura S.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: They date. And if you forgot, two-plus years after canon, so school positions and titles are different.

**A/N: **Filler fluff is filler, because about an hour and a half ago my phone alarm started buzzing reminding me of an interesting fact related to the next chapter of this (which will be posted tomorrow). Didn't want two chapters with the same characters in a row, so you get Uke Pair filler fluff. It's always good. ;) _Reuploaded to fix minor typographical errors._  
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Akaya looked at the other teen, amusement and concern lacing in his eyes. Yukimura sent as best a glare as possible, and being Yukimura it was powerful, but it wasn't harsh enough to make the freshman back down.

"You're _sick_," Akaya said, playing the opposite role particularly well. Yukimura rolled his eyes, pulling off the covers and swinging both legs over the side of the bed. He stood with purpose, but before he could protest that he was _fine_ dizziness overtook him and he fell back onto the bed with a pathetic thud.

Akaya arched an eyebrow, arms crossed defiantly as he surveyed Yukimura lying on the bed. Though the older boy needed to submit, his pride wouldn't let him, and he fumed pathetically until Akaya broke down and laughed.

"Told you," the freshman said as he waved a berating finger in Yukimura's direction. "You're sick." The junior huffed, but did not reply; instead, before Akaya could pull his finger away Yukimura had decided to use it as a means of pulling the younger boy down on top of him. Akaya squirmed but let Yukimura kiss him a few times, rushed and sloppy, before pulling away.

"Go," Yukimura said with a laugh, though his voice was hoarse and raspy from his inflamed throat. "And make sure Gen and Renji call me later." Akaya nodded like the ever-so-obedient boy he was (on occasion, if Yukimura was asking) before shouldering his bag and heading off, leaving an ill Yukimura to a boring, sedentary day at home.

--

Time that day dragged for both of them. Though Yukimura truly did feel horrible and honestly was exhausted, he didn't manage to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time, and after two hours of failed attempts he gave up. Television was too loud, books too challenging, poems too tiring, art too difficult, and attempting to _eat_ was another story entirely.

Across the non-existent pond, class for Akaya was equally disheartening. A pop quiz in English, a returned essay in history class ('Nice goin', kid," Niou had sniggered when he'd seen the bright red 43 percent written across it), three full pages of math problems for homework, his paint spilling during art and landing all over Yamamoto-chan landing him in detention for something that was _honestly_ an accident, and a slap from Sanada for being late to practice because of said detention – it was one of the worst days Akaya had had in ages. Arriving home after practice he didn't even bother changing or showering, but dove until the covers the moment he had the chance.

"Day that bad?" Yukimura asked, voice still hoarse and dying. Akaya nodded, curling into him despite the fact that this was a sure fire way to get himself sick.

"The _worst_." Reluctantly he sat up to keep from suffocating. Yukimura grimaced at the hand-shaped bruise forming on his cheek, carefully taking Akaya's chin between thin fingers and tilting it in order to get a better look.

"That'll mark for a good week," he murmured. "What did you do to get Gen so upset?"

"Detention." Yukimura raised an eyebrow in suspicion, wondering just _what_ it was for, but the truth in Akaya's eyes when he justified with a "bumped backwards into a table and paint spilled" was undeniable.

"Not like he believed me," Akaya murmured and Yukimura outright truly laughed for the first time that day, a deep, warm chuckle as he pecked Akaya's non-bruised cheek.

"Well, Gen will be Gen," he said, laughter still in his voice though he wrapped an arm protectively around the younger boy. Akaya lay back thankfully, curls still damp from the sweat of running a hundred plus laps. Pale fingers combed their way through the freshman's hair, and Akaya gave a small, contented sigh at the comforting gesture.

"Get not-sick, 'kay?" he muttered groggily, leaning further in to his boyfriend's touch. Yukimura smiled, the first real one he'd given all of his horrible day.

"I'll try," he said softly, and though it was meant to be comical it was distinctly sincere. Akaya picked up on both of these emotions as he cracked an eye open, adjusted his position, and then reached over and clicked the light off.

"Sleep, then," the younger teen mumbled, brain already shutting off after his own stressful day. Before Yukimura could protest that it was too early and that they both had homework (whether they'd attended school or not) and chores to attend to a warm head had planted it firmly on his chest.

"Sleep," was the groggy, repeated request.

And Yukimura did.


	7. A Not So Happy Birthday: Sort Of

**Date: **January nineteenth, 2010.

**Characters:** Muromachi T.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: Chapter five is a must-read. Other than that, nothing outside of fic.

**A/N:** At exactly midnight last night my phone alarm went bonkers. Scared me half to China. (No, srsly, tru fax.) It was because I'd programmed this young'un's birthday into it and it was reminding me. So, here's something rather sad and somewhat bittersweet.  
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Muromachi Touji stood in front of the door. He hadn't even left yet, hadn't even stepped foot in the _hallway_ yet and he was already feeling the dread of a stupid idea flood him. He had half a mind to just turn around and go straight back into his room, but he knew if he did that he would pass by the calendar and see the square for today's date, marked in red and decorated meticulously with stickers.

Birthday stickers.

Strengthening his resolve, Muromachi opened the door and left before he could turn back. He needed to get this over with.

-------

It was cold outside, the wind whipping at him, and Muromachi was beginning to wish he'd thrown on an actual coat instead of just a hoodie. As it was, he was walking down the pavement; despite the cold, he was making very little progress at promptly getting to his destination. He stopped to look in every store window, and didn't get on the first bus that was heading toward his destination _or_ the second. When he finally _did_ board the bus he got off three stops too early, then took the long route and made it even longer by circling the block near his destination. _Twice_.

Eventually, though, the sun had almost completely slipped past the horizon and Muromachi knew if he didn't locate the proper house number before the sun was gone he would be out of luck. It was now or never. Reluctantly, he found the proper number, the address burned into his memory like so many other things about the home's occupants, and carefully approached the door.

His finger hovered over the luminescent button of the doorbell, half an inch, an inch, half an inch, two inches, half an inch, a fourth of an inch, an eight of an inch –

"Screw this," he murmured, hand dropping to his side. The house was mostly dark from the front anyway, they had probably gone out for dinner and so he could just leave without caring. Still, he'd come all the way out there, so just… ringing once couldn't hurt, could it? No, but…

"I'll check around the side," Muromachi said to himself. "If there are lights on, I'll ring."

He walked slowly, picking up his feet carefully in hopes of not making any loud noises or sudden movements in case the occupants _were_ home. The further back he walked the more light he saw, and by the time he had done a good 250 degrees he saw _them_. They were most definitely home, and his stomach dropped to his feet; approaching the door was no longer even a thought in his mind, replaced by sheer panic as he watched them 30 yards away through the half-open slits in the blinds.

Muromachi approached closer to the window and crouched down, light flurries falling around him. The lack of warmth from sun and the winter weather made him shiver, but he kept his position. Inside, warm light radiated, flickering every so often as the flames in the hearth casting it did. A man Muromachi knew to be his father grinned, ruffling Taichi's hair, and his step-mother gushed with excitement.

Taichi sat, half bouncing, with the largest smile Muromachi had seen from him in years. He tore at the bright paper adorning the packages in front of him with a childish eagerness he had always previously lacked.

With a last small sight, Muromachi Touji turned and left. His presence was useless anyway.


	8. It's Thursday

**Date: **_Thursday_, January twenty-eighth, 2010.

**Characters:** Kirihara A., Yukimura S.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: They date. And if you forgot, two-plus years after canon, so school positions and titles are different.

**A/N:** More of them. BECAUSE I CAN. And I love them and their fluffiness. And I'm too lazy to type up the longer slightly angst piece about them, yet. (Expect some YanaRui soon, too!) Warning: implied sex.  


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Yukimura meant for it to be a slow, calm night, a Thursday where Akaya got his homework done and the two of them hit the hay early after a gruesome tennis practice. But somehow, someway, it turned into the exact opposite.

Akaya is lying next to him, left arm behind his head and right wrapped around Yukimura. On a normal night, Yukimura would have protested, but right now he is too exhausted to care, and so he lays his head on Akaya's sweaty chest and takes in the steady beat of the boy's slowing heartbeat. Yukimura feels the arm pull him closer, fingers looping up to twist at the long locks of navy hair and then the muscles underneath his head ripple as Akaya bends down to kiss him – head, temple, lips.

"Love you," Akaya murmurs, and it is absolutely genuine just like everything the younger boy says. Yukimura looks up, slight smile gracing his lips as he views green eyes he loves so much; carefully he turns in Akaya's embrace until he is lying on his side, one leg wrapped along Akaya's and a finger trailing down Akaya's chest. He traces the familiar muscles, so toned from years upon years of intense tennis training, with a thin finger before Akaya brings his other arm down and entwines their digits. Yukimura lifts his head to look at the other teen, but as he does so Akaya captures his lips: a soft, caring caress – _'I love you' _– with none of the frenzied, nearly painful, hurry from earlier.

"I love you too, 'Kaya." Yukimura gives a sigh of content and lies his head on Akaya's chest once more, leaning and draping himself over his boyfriend's body so that he can listen to that strong heartbeat with ease. His eyes skim over the tanned skin, taking in every inch of perfection no matter the flaws. Lazily his vision floats and he stops at a spot, surveying it with uneasiness, before the difference hits him.

"Where'd tha' scar come from?" Yukimura murmurs, exhausted and concerned and caring all at once. Akaya shrugs slightly but does not look down to try to pinpoint it, so it is clear to Yukimura that he knows which scar Yukimura is referencing. "Seriously, 'Kaya-"

"That one time." The younger boy cuts him off before he can go into Protective mode; as he does so, his face heats up, and Yukimura knows the deep red blush so characteristic of Akaya that graces the younger boy's features. "When you were… and I… and we…"

Yukimura chuckles, though internally he is mildly disconcerted: he cannot pinpoint this exact event, though there are a few in mind, but the fact that he'd dug his nails in deep enough to create a long yet thin scar without him remembering is terrifying. Akaya seems to sense his unease, and so he pulls Yukimura tighter, burying his face in the head of blue hair.

"I' was a while 'go, don' worry 'bout it," Akaya reassures, and though Yukimura wants to protest he gives in as more kisses are pressed to his scalp.

With a strong squeeze of Akaya's hand, Yukimura closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

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**Ending A/N: **Reviews appreciated so I know you lived through that pile of goo. :3 (Also, you're thinking right if you think you're thinking wrong. Swear, 'Kaya's matured majorly in more way than one...)


	9. Just a Dream

**Date: **February eighth, 2010.

**Characters:** Kirihara A., Yukimura S.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: They date. And if you forgot, two-plus years after canon, so school positions and titles are different.

**A/N:** You're all probably sick of them, but I'm not. Anyway, **this one stems from canon facts.** I was reading through PairPuri updates recently, and I came across this lovely little gem of a quote in reference to the school committees section:

_Yukimura: A clean environment is the basic requirement for a healthy body. Chitose doesn't understand the frightfulness of trash._

It does make sense with his character and, well, this little drabblet was born. Well, that and because I wanted to pimp out my birthday tomorrow. And apologize for a lack of updates for other things after a spree two weeks ago. :P So here you go, and expect more stories based off of Pair Puri - because that stuff is _canon_ crack. (Seriously. Kenya's brother's name is _Shouta. WTF?!_)

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Kirihara Akaya's eyes snapped open, head turning before his mind had a chance to catch up. Once it did, though, and he fully registered the situation in front of – or rather, next to – him, he frowned and blinked.

Yukimura was muttering in his sleep. For some people this was common, but oddly enough the other teen slept like the Sanada family stone. He barely even _turned_ in his sleep, let alone talked, so it was a rare occurrence indeed.

"N-no, d-don't," Yukimura grumbled, a hand swatting lightly against the comforter. Though Akaya normally would have found if funny, there was distress in Yukimura's voice – at least, as much as a voice could hold when the speaker was asleep – and sweat beading on his forehead even though it was cold due to lack of heating.

"Seiichi," he whispered softly, then repeated with a bit more force, "Seiichi." Yukimura did not seem to hear, and so Akaya shook his shoulder gently and continued repeating the name, as calm as possible. After a moment or too eyes opened, blurry and unfocused and full of the haze that always followed when you were woken mid-dream. It didn't take long for him to understand his surroundings, though, and when he did he gave a small sigh of relief.

"You all right?" the freshman asked, running a soothing hand through sweat-dampened locks of dark blue hair. Yukimura nodded, breathing that had been more erratic than usual slowing to a more calm, restful pace.

"Yeah." Then, he nodded and repeat, "Yeah. Just a bad dream." Yukimura curled in closer to the younger boy, who now nearly matched him in height and surpassed him in weight.

"You wanna talk 'bout it?" Akaya murmured after a moment. He himself was never a fan of such things, but he knew from the way Yukimura always prompted him that the older boy was. Yukimura's lips quirked upwards in a small, appreciative smile, and he nodded though looked somewhat reticent.

"It was just a… usual nightmare." He did not meet Akaya's eyes when he spoke, but the hand that fisted tightly in the fabric of Akaya's pajama top spoke the volumes Yukimura could not. "It was mostly at school and practice. And… things were… messy."

Yukimura hesitated, tongue carefully clinging to the next few words circulating around his mind. "There was trash everywhere and dirt and things were rotting and decaying and then there were _flies_ and…" Yukimura trailed off with a violent shiver of fear; Akaya hugged him closer and pecked him on the forehead.

Akaya knew how odd it would have sounded to most people, but after Yukimura had originally gotten sick he'd developed such intense anxiety to getting sick again that even the smallest messes left to sit for more than a few hours caused him to panic. Though Akaya also realized it was a bit of an overreaction, he was more than informed on how phobias worked (who _couldn't_ be when you hung around people as unstable as he did?) and he had worked out a routine for dealing with this by now.

"It was just a dream," he reassured, eyes looking up for a moment to skim around the spotless bedroom. Yukimura did the same, some of the anxiety still held in his eyes diminishing, and he gave a tentative nod.

"Just a dream." Yukimura repeated the words, muscles relaxing as his body went limper against Akaya's. "Just… a dream." This time the words were foggy, fuzzed, and Akaya could help but give a small smile.

"A dream," he reassured one last time. "Now go back to sleep, Seiichi."

Yukimura was out before he could process.

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**Ending A/N:** Reviews appreciated~ Waking up with an inbox full of messages would be loverly. ;D


	10. Happy Birthday

**Date: **March fifth, 2010.

**Characters:** Kirihara A., Yukimura S.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: They date. And if you forgot, two-plus years after canon, so school positions and titles are different.

**A/N:** Yeah, this fic is now about Uke Pair. So sue me. Anyway, sorry for the lack of updates on this and on other PoT fics. I know I've fallen behind, and I'm terribly sorry. An idea for an OC-based Percy Jackson and the Olympian's fic has seized me; please bear with me. (And if you know PJO, read it? *shameless*) Anyway, here's a happy birthday to Yukimura!  
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Yukimura Seiichi was not one to complain. Not at all, ever. He was a strong not-quite-boy-not-yet-man, and one who had his emotions completely in check and under control. He didn't get stressed, didn't break down, and he most _definitely_ did not scream into his pillow like a pre-teen girl.

…Okay, maybe he did.

Only on a few occasions, though, and today he felt fully justified to rant to the world. He _was_ Yukimura, after all – and it _was_ March fifth.

"-and Haru's not staying at either of his normal places but Yagyuu can't take him in because the dinner didn't go well. Then there's Renji and Bunta and I _swear_ if they have _another _fight I am going to make them both run laps until their twenty. Gen's been in over his head all year but now we've got _exams_ coming up on top of it and Teshima-chan is keeping me updated on whether or not he's passed out bit I _know_ him and I _know_ he won't get enough rest, and – mmph!"

Akaya's lips covered his own, cutting him off. Yukimura attempted to pull away, but strong hands covered him, one on his bicep and one on his wrist.

"Relax, Seiichi." The younger man's voice was soothing, a calm that Yukimura had learned to trust over the years. He sighed, but his body relaxed, tension draining. "Flip," Akaya instructed, moving off of him, and Yukimura did.

A hand trailed up the back of his shirt, but before Yukimura could question another joined it. They began working along his back and shoulders, massaging the muscles and releasing the pent-up energy. Even without trying Yukimura relaxed, making soft, pleased noises as Akaya's fingers did all of the work.

They sat in the peaceful silence, enjoying each other's company; the week had been stressful, and the upcoming one would be worse. They were both content to sit back in a small moment of pleasure and allow it to wash over them, rejuvenate, revitalize.

"Better?" Akaya finally asked, over fifteen minutes later. Yukimura nodded, not speaking just yet though when he did his tone was calmer, his inflections less frantic.

"Much." He sighed, shaking out his shoulders and enjoying the lack of tightness. "Thanks."

"No prob." Akaya gave a small, wry smile but it wasn't condescending – more, it was a look of knowing, in this case exactly what Yukimura needed but didn't want to ask for. "Your whole fam is home tonight, right?"

"Yup." Yukimura glanced at the clock as he said it. "Tou-san's flight probably landed half an hour ago, so he'll be home soon. Kaa-san's switched her shifts around, too. And Shizuka-" Yukimura gave one more look at the clock, a more Elder Brother tone in his voice "-will be home on time, or else." Akaya chuckled, voice deep and rich, but got up; he threw off his shirt and began rummaging through a draw in the bureau he shared in hopes of finding something presentable to wear to dinner.

"Or you'll use your now-seventeen power to kick her pretty little arse?" he asked, a laugh in his voice. Yukimura rolled his eyes.

"I will used my Elder Brother _Seniority_," Yukimura corrected, watching Akaya dig through drawers. "And wear something green, it goes well with your eyes."

Akaya turned and stared straight at him; Yukimura raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You can be such a girl sometimes," Akaya muttered.

"And you can't, Mr. I-spend-fifteen-minutes-a-morning-on-my-hair?"

The words were barely out of Yukimura's mouth before a pair of balled up socks came flying at him. He dogged with the skill of someone who has spend most of his life dodging small, circular objects (such as tennis balls, for example), but a few more pairs came flying at him and, with luck, one struck him on the side of the head.

"Oh you are gonna _get it_," he growled, both playful and a challenge. He threw the pair of socks back, and random articles of clothing lying within arm's reach followed; soon an all-out clothes war ensued.

The result was two exhausted, laughing boys.

A glance at the clock told Yukimura they had barely ten minutes until his family was expected to show up. With a groan, he shifted, pressing a quick kiss to Akaya's temple before sitting up.

"C'mon," he muttered, ruffling the curls, "we gotta go." Though Yukimura tried to move, Akaya's now-grasp on his waist tightened.

"One more minute," came the tired murmur. "Just one." Reluctant, Yukimura gave in and relaxed, allowing Akaya's fingers to roam through his hair – Yukimura still did not know why, but within the past year a much more possessive, dominant side of the younger boy had emerged, and it liked to rear it's head in simple ways.

"Happy seventeenth, Seiichi," he said. And then he was up and off, dressing and locking himself in the bathroom to do his hair before another word was spoken.

All was well.


	11. Palladio

**Date: **April fourth, 2010.

**Characters:** Ohtori C., Shishido R.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: Ohtori's checking out conservatories in the US, mainly Juilliard.

**A/N:** I was going to write Ohtori's actual audition, but someone got off track when it happened. (Dates were end of February to the beginning of March.) So, you all get this. Sorry for the hiatus. Much love to Charmane and Feyren for pestering me back.

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Ohtori sat, foot tapping rhythmically to the rushing violin concerto playing through his headphones. The palm of his left hand faced up, as was his forearm, and his fingers moved in time to the music, presenting all of the correct fingerings. His eyes were closed, and while he was in a public setting Ohtori knew he could lose himself in the sounds if he truly tried.

The problem was that he wasn't truly trying.

He had sent the text message over four minutes ago: he knew Shishido-san had received it, and read it. Had it been a normal message, Shishido probably would have replied by now, but it was not.

It was the text message telling Shishido exactly _where_ Ohtori was: the airport. And, more specifically, _why_ he was there: to catch his flight to the US.

Ohtori knew he should have told Shishido-san that he was looking at conservatories there. He knew that it would come out eventually, but he had pushed off the inevitable as long as possible. Those days he had auditions at the beginning of March he had claimed he was sick, with fake, misspelled text messages to simulate his delirium. The phone calls he'd had to take, in English, he had pushed off as being from his cousins in Europe. (It wasn't like Shishido-san's English was very good anyway, and aside from 'hello' and a few other simple words like articles, he could understand nothing being spoken.)

Now, though, it had finally come out: Ohtori missing the first few days of the school year (one that he wouldn't even complete), was something that would cause Shishido to question, and with Shishido-san, Ohtori knew it was better just to get the truth out there, rather than hiding it until the last possible second. The former would result in quite a bit of anger, but the latter would result in violent outbursts that caused even Kabaji to back off.

The minutes dragged on and on as Ohtori sat, the melodies rushing through his mind and his eyes fixed on the screen of the phone. What was a second seemed so much longer, and a minute passed as it would to a five year old in church. Finally, the screen lit up, and before Ohtori could consider the consequences he had opened the virtual envelope.

'_If that's what you want…'_

Ohtori grimaced, and he could practically hear the pain dripping from the few words presented. He text back, quickly.

'_I'm really sorry for not telling you sooner, Shishido-san, I just wasn't sure how.'_

The response came startlingly fast, a stark contrast to the length it had taken for the other one.

'_Don't worry about it. You're a musician. I get it.'_

Ohtori read the words once, then twice, then a third time. He dawdled for time, mind swirling around nonexistent words in an attempt to conjure a response. Nothing came to him, and he was lost in the muddled haze until a clear voice broke over the intercom.

"Flight 403 now boarding; flight 403, now boarding."

With a frown, Ohtori stood. He shouldered his carry on—his usual school bag, stuffed with everything he would need for the week or so he was there, because he abhorred traveling with checked baggage—and pulled his boarding pass from his coat pocket. It was odd to see someone his age boarding with first class, but the shrill violin still left him almost entirely in his own world. It was only after he had boarded, bag stowed in the compartment above him, that he removed the cellular device again.

'_I'll tell you when I get back. My phone doesn't get service in America, but I'll email. Tell the others I say hi. Oshitari-senpai already knows where I am—and he figured it out, I did not tell him. Sorry for all of the trouble.'_

As soon as the virtual envelope zoomed off into cyberspace, Ohtori shut his phone off for the plane ride, and the rest of the week.


	12. Early Decisions

**Date: **April fifth, 2010.

**Characters:** Kirihara A., Yukimura S.

**Things-You-Should-Read-Or-Know-Before-This**: They date. And if you forgot, two-plus years after canon, so school positions and titles are different. Also, Japanese school year starts in April. I don't have the exact date for 2010, but it should be right around now. Sorry if the research doesn't match.

**A/N:** For Charmane and Feyren, you sillies. And because I just have my guilty pleasures...

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"Akaya?"

Kirihara whipped his head around, blinking through the darkness of the kitchen.

"'m here," the younger boy murmured. "Just got up earlier, sorry." He began to walk towards Yukimura, but it was no use: the darkness was, for lack of a more accurate term, dark, and his human eyes weren't made for it. Even with the map of the kitchen in his brain, Akaya still managed to stub his toe.

The string of explicit words that followed would have impressed even Niou.

"You're going to need to work on that language, you know," Yukimura teased gently as Akaya plopped into a chair. The older boy kneeled in front of him, rubbing at the bruising ligatures carefully.

"Why're you up?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," Yukimura replied. Though it was dark, he could make out the shrug of broadened shoulders, the defensiveness of the posture. "Is it the new semester that starts tomorrow."

"Today," Akaya corrected, head tipping slightly towards the digital clock that displayed the three AM time. "I… guess."

"You 'guess'?" Yukimura raised an eyebrow. He was not sure how well it carried through in the ink-like view of the kitchen, but the message seemed to carry through well enough anyway.

"I was just thinking, I guess." Akaya pulled his feet up onto the chair, the stubbed toe forgotten. "You know. About school and being a second year and yo--" He cut off, abruptly, and Yukimura flinched.

"And me being the only incoming third year in our circle who doesn't know where they want to go after high school?" he guessed. Akaya nodded, and Yukimura raised himself up until he was sitting in the chair next to the younger boy.

"Don't worry about me," he reassured, "I'll end up just fine."

In past years, this would have worked: Akaya would have nodded, and sleepy he would have stumbled to bed and fallen off into dream land. This year, however, Akaya shook his head.

"You have no _clue_, Seiichi." The protest was more passionate than Yukimura was used to during late-night pointless debates, and if he hadn't been perfecting his poker face for years he would have been more than slightly taken back.

"It's just…" Akaya's voice dropped this time, tone and volume much lower than the previous exclamation. "I worry, you know? I know you're smart and everything—hell, you've got the highest marks in the whole school next to Niou-senpai and Yanagi-senpai and that obnoxious girl dating Kiyoshi-kun—but you have to decide and stuff and I just--"

Yukimura didn't let him continue. Instead, he cut the distressed boy off, pressing his finger carefully to Akaya's lips.

"I will decide," he said softly, "I promise." He looked Akaya in the eyes now, not even bothering to consider how ineffective it was. "And I won't leave you behind.

"I promise." A smile tugged at the corners of Yukimura's lips as he continued. "And if that means I need to take an obnoxious break year, or tutor kids in French because _you_ want to train professionally and I won't leave you behind, so be it."

The kitchen fell silent, and temporarily word-lifted darkness fell over them once again. Down the hall mumbles from a sleep-talking Shizuka could be heard but not understood, and the Yukimura parents lay in bed curled close together. For that moment, though, together in the kitchen, it made no difference who was down the hall or where they were now.

All that mattered was a singular nod from Akaya, before they both rose and headed back to sleep.


End file.
